Amid the silence, I balanced on my paddle board and floated through the wetlands of Fishing Creek in Chesapeake Beach, Md. There, in a natures haven, I spotted red-winged blackbirds, egrets and kingfishers. Saltmarsh cordgrass stretched on for miles, and the water was so calm it reflected the skys white puffy clouds without a ripple. After six long years, I finally felt at home on the East Coast.

My husband, Ron, and I moved to Maryland from Santa Monica, Calif., in the spring of 2006. We landed inlandless than an hours drive from the Chesapeake Bayin Montgomery County, which is part of the Washington, D.C. Metropolitan Area. Right away, I felt like a misfit. I cant stand politics. The military life doesnt appeal. Museums and monuments arent my thing. And besides, my heart ached for the Pacificthose ocean views are what drew me to California from my Ohio roots in the first place.

Ron was floored I felt no connection to Washington.

This is your kind of city. Lots of lawyers, he said.

I left the law to write, I said.

Linear thinkers, he said.

Im not a linear thinker! I argued.

Yes, you are.

Fine, I ambut then why all the traffic circles? Linear thinkers like grids.

Each time I drove, I got lost and cried. But traffic circles werent my nemesis. It was the climate. I had come from a place where I was used to swimming outdoors in December. In the sunny West, I could meet my friends to hike, run, walk or rollerblade along the ocean bluffs any time, any dayminus the two weeks in November that amount to Californias rainy season.

Moving to a new city is about finding community, and community is about connection. Where were my people? Where was my place? I had met political pundits, but not power walkers. Finance writers, but not fitness writers. Things finally changed last year when Ron and I vacationed in Florida, and I tried paddle boarding for the first time. Within minutes I was hooked. I loved the sensation of walking on water, but I especially loved the spectacular beauty of Floridas mangroves, unique tropical trees that are concentrated within the swampy wetlands.

Swamps. In grade school, Id been taught that D.C. (and the surrounding mid-Atlantic region) was built on a swamp. Apparently, the correct topographical term is tidal marsh. Either way, both swamps and marshes fall under the general category of wetlands, and Id always crinkled my nose at themwerent wetlands just a tangled mess of mosquito-infested vegetation? After Florida, I admitted I might be wrong. The trip piqued my interest in wetlands, so I headed to the Chesapeake to explore.

Wetlands are magnificent. With a paddle board, I could immerse myself within them. On the water I drifted, and the wildlife emerged: bullfrogs, turtles, fiddler crabs, jellyfish and birdsso many birds! The wetlands unleashed a part of me I never knew existed: my inner ornithologist. Wetlands act as the connective tissue that links land and sea. The air, soil, sunlight, water, plants and animals are interwoven in a delicate balance. Wetlands purify, detoxify and protect the land from floods. Marylands wetlands wouldnt be the same without summers punishing humidity or the winter snows that replenish water levels. After the summer I spent observing such a unique ecosystem, my attitude about the regions climate softened considerably. And it was through paddle boarding that I met other outdoor lovers, some of whom were politicos, but a surprising number who werent. Like me, their first thought at the word preserve was a wildlife sanctuary, not the mobilization effort to protect Social Security. When I found them, I began to find my place.

One day last fall I went paddle boarding along the Potomac River and scanned D.C.s skyline. It dawned on me that many of the men and women involved in government affairs were making decisions that would impact the vegetation, crustaceans and other creaturesincluding peoplethat depended on the wetlands to thrive. Politics still make me cringe, but I want to protect the wetlands that Ive come to know and love, so Ive begun to take baby steps in the political arena by educating myself on environmental issues with the hope I can make a difference.

Right now, its the off-season, and I wont paddle board again until spring. But I cant wait to return to the Chesapeake. Me. Paddle boarding. Birds. Plants and animals. The people of Washington, D.C., the mid-Atlantic, and the world. Like the wetlands, were all connected in delicate and important ways.